


In Memory Alone

by cosmicallybrownie



Category: Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Swearing, blood mention, hospital mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7315450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicallybrownie/pseuds/cosmicallybrownie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the bar explosion, Sheila and Ipos are reborn into the world. The only problem is they don't know who they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Memory Alone

He couldn’t believe how much his body _hurt_. The white walls surrounding him were too bright and empty. The whole damn room was too bright and, shit, he hurt. Blinking against the glaring light, he spotted a woman in the corner of his eye.   
  
“I’m glad you’re awake, I’m Dr. Ross. Do you know where you are?” She was too perky, too loud. Her voice seemed to fill the room and echo off the walls, making her even louder. 

He ducked his head against her assault and winced. His mouth tasted like metal and he could smell blood. For a moment he thought he would be sick, and he had to force bile down his throat and calm down. The doctor still smiled at him patiently, and he frowned.

“Doc, I have no idea where I am.” His answer was more abrasive than it should have been, but he could hardly think around the pulsing headache behind his eyes.

The doctor didn’t seem offended, however, and she nodded, “Well, sir, do you know who you are? I’m afraid our search for someone fitting your description yielded no results.” Her voice seemed too chipper to deliver such news, and he watched her mouth form the words, but didn’t process them at first.

Who…who was he? He didn’t know. Nothing came to mind. He looked at his hands, turning them over and back again. No jewelry, no rings, no indication. He needed something…something to help him remember.

He snapped out, “Bring me a mirror.”

He looked at himself, or at least at the face reflected back at him in the mirror. He took in the messy hair, the piercings, and eventually stared into the man’s brown eyes. They were empty.  But the more he stared in the mirror, the more the image distorted. Fire seemed to dance in the brown and his mouth opened to reveal sharp fangs.

Throwing the mirror away from himself, he dimly heard it shatter in the background. He needed away, he needed something, someone. _Not here!_ His mind screamed at him, and he fought to stand. Unfortunately, he was wired to the bed by some contraption. His feet hit the floor beside him, and pain coursed through him, fresh and searing. He let out a deep groan of frustration and all but tore the wire from his arm. He had to get away, here was wrong. Catching a glimpse in a window, he was shocked at the flushed face and wild eyes reflected back at him.

A name sat on his tongue like hot iron. It was foreign, unknown, but he had to speak it. 

“Sheila.”

A sharp prick in his rear caught his attention and suddenly his tongue was thick and his body was too heavy.

He woke again in the same room, and repeated the name over and over again. His personal mantra.

***

She was floating in white. It was warm and the tranquility of the moment washed over her. Until she suddenly awoke, and pain engulfed her body like fire. The woman woke screaming, terrifying the nurse in the room taking her vitals.

The woman’s voice was hoarse as she cried out, “I can’t see. I can’t see. I can’t see.” Each cry was less urgent than the previous and eventually her voice cracked and she fell silent. Her tears tasted like blood, and she cried harder.

The doctor entered her room quietly, and gently spoke to the woman, “Ma’am, I’m your doctor. Do you know where you are?”

The woman’s voice hitched and caught as she tried to force an answer through her sobs, “N-no.”

The doctor covered the woman’s hands with her own and soothed her, “It’s all right. You’re safe here. Do you know who you are? We could find no identification.”

The woman pulled her hands away from the doctor and helplessly clenched and relaxed them. She needed…something. This wasn’t right. She groped for anything to ground her, but was met only with the scratchy linen of the bed sheets. Her hands flew up and grabbed at the bandage on her face, covering her eyes.

The doctor pulled her hands away and spoke, “You were blind before the accident that brought you here. I’m sorry.”

The woman violently turned away from where the doctor stood and peeled the bandage off. The knot was tangled in her hair, and she tried to work it out as quickly as she could. She tensed when she felt the doctor’s hands in her hair, and she frowned at herself.

“I don’t know who I am.” Her voice shook with fear, and she desperately wished for someone. For him. Her head snapped up, and she felt the last of the strands tangled in the bandages get yanked from her scalp. Who he was, she didn’t know. She just knew that she needed him, had to find him. Wincing, she reclined against the mountain of pillows behind her and dismissed the doctor with her silence.

***

Grief manifested itself in the way of anger, and the man brutishly turned away all who came to his room. He didn’t want them, he wanted her. Sheila. But no one knew who she was, and worst, they wouldn’t let him leave his room. He could find her, he knew it. He could see flashes of her, of bright hair, of pale eyes, the gentle curve of her cheek. He just needed to get out of the small room. He felt as if he was suffocating, but anytime he moved too quickly or got too restless, the stout nurse was more than happy to calm him down with a prick in his ass.

She would not move nor eat. The nurses relentlessly tried to push activity on her, but she just sat. She hardly moved, hardly closed her eyes. Since she was brought in, no food had passed her lips. An IV drip was slowly giving her the nutrients she needed, but her face grew gaunt and her shoulder bones stabbed savagely through her bleached gown. Any attempts at conversation were resolutely ignored, and the doctor feared she may wither away.

In the end, the doctor ruled that a little time outdoors would do a world of good. In the brisk air in the courtyard, the patients always seemed to perk up a bit. It reminded them that there was more to the world than four white walls. Dr. Ross pushed the wheelchair out into the open and wheeled the second one out as well. The patients seemed to sag under their own weight, but gradually opened like flowers in the sun.

The sun was hot against his skin, and it was a pleasant burn. He felt an immense sense of reprieve. It was a sensory reset, and it was incredibly refreshing to see something outside of his room. The cool air tasted clean and natural, a wonderful contrast to the stale, bleached air of the hospital. His anger was cooled by a sudden breeze and suddenly he wanted to laugh. He could finally breathe.

His body felt lighter, and he thought nothing in the world could be better in that moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dr. Ross pushing another patient to sit beside him. Hell’s bells, it was _her._

“Sheila.” His voice came out breathier than he imagined, and he was almost afraid of what would happen once he spoke the name he had held to close to his heart for days.

Her head snapped to the side, and he tried to meet her eyes. They were cloudy and pale, just as he knew they would be. Recognition swept over her face like a wave and she reached toward him.

Her hand found his arm and her lips twisted into a smile, “Ipos.”

This time he did laugh and he brought her hand to his face and kissed each fingertip. Her face lit up with a smile, and he knew everything would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> This fic and all others can be found on my tumblr account under my writing tag  
> cosmicallybrownie.tumblr.com/tagged/hot-off-the-presses


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